


cajole

by fyborg23



Series: check [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Implied power dynamics, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, gendered sex talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyborg23/pseuds/fyborg23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weber looks down at Zach in his boxers and gives him a slow smile that Zach does not associate with good things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cajole

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from my tumblr, and all thanks/blame should go to jeffcartergold who texted me with this bunny. If you have gotten here via googling yourself or someone you know, it's best to turn back.

Zach rolls off the bed, swiping his sweaty palms on his thin boxers and stumbles towards the kitchen. It’s a little too early for the sun to be up, but being this far north, of course the sun’s up at six am. Zach only fumbles a little with the coffee grounds, and dozes a little at the kitchen counter as he watches the coffee brew.

The doorbell rings.

Zach blinks, runs his tongue behind his teeth and grimaces. What sane person would call this early? Even Sutes wouldn’t come by—

Zach smiles.

Maybe Sutes is done torturing himself with no sex? Zach may wiggle his butt a little as he hustles towards the door, with a wide smirk on his face. Zach opens it and sees.

Shea Weber.

Zach’s eyes sweep up and down, and he licks his lips. Not that it helps; Zach’s mouth is a little dry.

Zach’s heart also seems to have moved up to his throat. Weber looks down at Zach in his boxers and gives him a slow smile that Zach does not associate with good things. Bad things, actually, like getting boarded and not even getting a power play out of it.

Zach doesn’t want to be intimidated by a guy who dresses like a thirteen-year-old skateboarder.

Weber says, “Aren’t you going to let me in, Parise?” in an insinuating tone. What Weber’s trying to imply, Zach doesn’t know.

Maybe that Zach has Sutes’ dick in his throat too much for Weber’s comfort. Too bad. Zach puts on a smile and says, “What, they don’t have six o’clock in Canada, Weber?”

Weber leans against the doorjamb, “So much for Midwestern manners, Parise. Aren’t you even going to give me some of that coffee? Could use it.”

Zach scrapes his tongue behind his teeth and allows himself to think viciously about Weber’s inability to be an actual human. But he steps aside and waves a hand in the direction of the kitchen, mutters, “Sure you can find it?”

Weber sends Zach a glare that curls all of his insides, but shoulders him aside and yanks the coffeepot off the warmer. He uses Zach’s favorite cup too, the fuckface.

Zach is really starting to think about his fist meeting that overgrown cliff that Weber has for a jaw.

Weber smirks as he drinks down the coffee, his throat working, and Zach clutches the coffeepot a little tight as he pours his own cup out. Zach feels exposed, and he presses himself against the cold granite counter just to ground himself.

"Not bad, Parise," Weber says. Zach narrows his eyes and sips at his mug, the coffee a little too hot on his tongue. Zach would rather burn his tongue than talk any more than he has to Weber. Weber’s hands are overgrown just like his jaw, and they make Zach’s mug— and it is his, just like this kitchen is his— look small.

"Why are you here." Zach trusts even Weber is smart enough to pick up on the unspoken,  _at my house, at the crack of dawn, when you’re at the center at the shitstorm Sutes doesn’t even talk about._

Weber looks at him over the rim of his mug and smirks. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”

Zach feels himself flushing, turns to adjust the coffee maker and maybe to press his dick against the counter. He doesn’t need this, and he really doesn’t need Weber stepping close behind him and getting so close his stubble brushes against Zach’s ear as he says, “I can see the appeal.”

Zach presses his hand against the thin plastic top of the coffee maker, and wishes he had put on some actual pants. Weber’s big, and Zach presses himself harder against the counter to—  _make some space_. It’s too warm for this.

Weber’s smirking. Zach knows what he looks like, with the flush of red that he can feel creeping down his back and his hands clutching uselessly at the countertop, and Weber must be delighted.

Zach rests his forehead against the bottom of the top cabinet and says, “Look, if this is some attempt to intimidate me—”

Weber rests his hands on top of Zach’s. Says, “It’s working, then, isn’t it?”

Zach bites his lip, and Weber squeezes Zach’s hands before he lets go and steps back. Zach doesn’t move away from the counter. They both know Zach’s hard.

Weber strokes down Zach’s bare back with his fingertips, and Zach presses his feet down against the cool tile floor hard to suppress that shiver. “Get to the point, Weber,” Zach manages, swallowing around his heart and ignoring the way Weber’s just looming over him.

Weber shoves his hand through Zach’s hair, pulls at it, and Zach flushes up to his temples. His head’s bent back enough that he can see Weber’s face, and Zach licks his lips. Weber smirks, and Zach feels his dick jolt.

"You’re very pretty, Parise," Weber says, stroking down Zach’s neck with his free hand. Zach doesn’t know whether to press into his hand or to yank it off, to kick him out, and Weber scrapes a thumbnail down Zach’s throat.

Whatever Zach wants to say is quietly smothered by the brush of Weber’s lips on his. Their lips are rough, Weber’s pulling at Zach’s lower lip with his teeth, and Zach wants to bury his hands into Weber’s hair.

So he does, pulling Weber down to kiss him harder. Weber follows Zach’s hands, yanking on Zach’s hair a little as he skims the bow of Zach’s lips with his tongue. Zach presses up into Weber’s mouth, Weber’s stubble leaving small burns around his face.

Weber lets go, and pushes Zach against the refrigerator. Zach looks up at Weber’s lust-dazed eyes while he toys at the waistband of his boxers. Weber just forces out, “We’re not fucking in a kitchen,” and Zach has to press his dick against himself to stop from moaning.

Zach can feel Weber’s eyes on his ass as they stumble towards Zach’s bed. Weber strips quickly, throwing his clothes against the wall. Weber presses him down against the sheets, and smirks as Zach lands face-first on the pillows.

Weber gropes Zach’s ass, mutters what Zach thinks is “Those curves,” but Zach is a little busy with how hard his dick is.

Weber pulls down Zach’s boxers slowly, his fingertips just resting on the top of Zach’s ass, and Zach wants to make Weber do something, anything.

Weber presses his thumb against Zach’s taint, making Zach squirm, and Weber presses his head down against the mattress too easily, saying, “Don’t move, sweet.”

Fuck it, Zach will move if he wants to. He presses against Weber’s thumb, and gets slapped on the ass for his trouble. Weber weaves his hand through Zach’s hair, says, “Babe, you heard what I said.”

Weber strokes his thumb slowly, brushing against Zach’s asshole, says, “Going to get you so wet, make you ask for it, just like you’ve been asking for it all along.”

Zach buries his face in the pillows, arches his back and Weber slides his hand out of Zach’s hair and—

There’s tongue. Zach digs his teeth into his lip, and fuck, Weber’s just rimming him, pressing a little mean underneath his balls. Zach wants to spread his thighs even more, make Weber go deeper. Weber’s a dirty son of a bitch too, rubbing Zach’s balls slowly as he presses his tongue into him. Zach wants to scream, make Weber rub his face against Zach’s ass.

"Look at you, so red and tight for me," Weber says, and Zach knows it’s ridiculous, it’s impossible, but god he shoves himself down against Weber’s hand. Weber presses Zach’s balls up against himself, and Zach wants him to touch his dick.

Weber doesn’t. Just scrapes his mouth against the arch of Zach’s neck and says, “So good, being still for me,” while he presses a dry finger against Zach’s asshole.

Zach kneels up, trying to get his head clear, and Weber slides his dick against the cleft of Zach’s ass. Zach gasps, and Weber rocks against him, rubbing Zach’s taint a little harder while pressing on Zach’s abs.

Zach feels cut off, and Weber’s saying shit like, “I want to bite your thighs, eat you out until you cry, have you bend over and take what I have,” and Zach grips the headboard as Weber thrusts harder against his ass, cradles his balls. Zach wants to come, he knows he could come if Weber would just brush his hand against Zach’s dick.

Zach whines, and Weber, the evil sadistic bastard, laughs, and bends him over the headboard. Zach’s thighs quiver as Weber scrapes his teeth up them, and Zach can’t suppress the moan that comes out when Weber lips at his balls. Weber presses his finger against Zach’s asshole, sucks at his taint, licks it like it’s a cunt, and Zach has to grind down on Weber’s mouth.

Weber holds Zach against his mouth with an iron grip across his hips, while beads of sweat roll down Zach’s spine. Zach can feel his thighs get sticky with his precome, and god, he wants to come so bad. Zach reaches back, shoves his hand through Weber’s hair, and says, “Come on, I need to come.”

Weber presses a kiss to the inside of Zach’s thigh and says, “You’ve gotta to say please.”

Zach buries his face in the hollow of his elbow, but manages a please. Weber rewards him with a slow, sinful suck of his dick, hot and wet and everything that Zach’s been wanting for the last—

Zach comes with an embarrassing moan, and Weber rubs his lips slowly across the head of Zach’s dick, making Zach bite his arm with each stroke. Weber drags his thumbs up to Zach’s ass, spreads his cheeks, and Zach can feel himself clench. More than once.

Weber turns Zach around, and he licks his lips. Zach leans back on his elbows, and tries not to make a big deal out of Weber’s dick—

Heh.  _Big._

Weber strokes his hand up his dick, and presses his fingers to Zach’s lips. Zach closes his eyes, and Weber drags them along his lips, murmurs, “You have such pretty lips.” Zach licks out, touches Weber’s fingers, and Weber slowly presses them into Zach’s mouth.

Zach sucks on them. Of course he does, and the heated look Weber sends him makes him feel like he did something right without even knowing why. Weber smiles, and Zach’s spent dick twitches weakly. They both look down at it, and Weber strokes a thumb down Zach’s face, says, “You want another one, babe?”

Zach flashes on the image of Weber fucking him, pinning him down with his weight, and shit, he can feel himself getting hard again.

Impossible, but Shea fucking Weber doesn’t seem to give a damn as he presses Zach against the sheets, rubbing his hard-on against Zach’s belly. Zach arches up, almost wincing at the brush of Weber’s pubic hair against his dick, but he’s too busy gasping at how Weber works his teeth over the midline of his neck, sucking hard.

"So fucking pretty," Weber says, stroking his neck, just shy of putting pressure on it, "Tell me, how much dick have you had?"

Zach turns his head to the side, avoiding answering the question, and Weber keeps going, “You’re taking it so well, babe,” and Zach bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. Weber smears the thin thread of blood along Zach’s lip, says, “Such red lips.”

Zach wants to say something, anything, but Weber presses his palm hard against Zach’s dick, smearing it with his precome. Zach wants to scramble away, but Weber strokes him so fucking gently Zach can’t stand it. Zach clenches his teeth, and Weber rubs his thumb at the tip of his dick, presses down enough that Zach almost sees stars.

Weber strokes him off efficiently, and Zach curls up as he comes weakly, his come dripping across Weber’s fingers.

Weber sucks off his own fingers, and Zach licks his lips as he sees Weber close his eyes in appreciation. If Zach looks hard enough, he can see a small blush across those flat cheekbones.

Zach feels like he’s been  _used,_  but—

He doesn’t know what he thinks.

Weber flicks his eyes open, looks down at him, and Zach feels like he’s on familiar ground again when Weber kneels above him, when he rests his dick against Zach’s lips. Weber tugs at Zach’s hair, and Zach mouths at his dick, running his hands up those ridiculous thighs.

"Such a slut," Weber smirks, pressing the head of his dick into Zach’s mouth, and Zach hums in retaliation. Weber presses down, and Zach digs his hands into Weber’s thighs as he slowly fucks Zach’s mouth. Zach can breathe, just barely, and his lips are stretched tight around Weber’s dick.

Weber’s breathing hard, loud in the quiet room, and Zach can only swallow around Weber. Zach’s face feels hot, and Weber’s thumbing the skin at the corners of his eyes, smearing the tear tracks.

Weber comes, thick on Zach’s tongue, and Zach blushes as Weber slides out. Weber smears his come across Zach’s lip, kisses him and says, “Gorgeous.”

Zach swallows, and doesn’t say anything as Weber dresses himself and leaves. He feels off balance, like that’s what Weber wanted all along. Zach rubs at his neck, feels the teeth marks Weber left on it.

He’s going have to explain this to Sutes, isn’t he.

Zach is so fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://www.hastybooks.tumblr.com)!


End file.
